#velundr writes

[cloudvelundr]

Velundr’s 2019 top ten!

Saw a few of these and thought I’d do one of my own for once!

1

627 notes - 14 October 2019

(L)Inktober Prompts: ash, Zelda Yesterday’s draw :p

2

407 notes - 10 October 2019

(L)Inktober Prompts: pattern, weapon, hylian The people tell of a legend, of a princess, a hero and a sword, and how they...

3

Lookit a text post?? Stalhorse

330 notes - 26 November 2019

Cutting through the plains overnight Link is spotted by mounted stalkoblin

The blin are dispatched easily enough and the horses scatter

One however doesn’t go far - it actually comes back after a while[...]

4

235 notes - 01 October 2019

(L)INKTOBER yeet - prompts: ancient & ring Proof I’m alive and doing the thing(s) :P Related question... would another volcano...

5

214 notes - 05 October 2019

(L)INKTOBER Prompts: freeze, ganondorf His mother’s son.

6

199 notes - 02 October 2019

(L)INKTOBER Prompts: mindless, fairy fountain I’ve thought this about the Great Sea fairies ever since I first found their...

7

197 notes - 26 October 2019

(L)Inktober Prompts: tasty, zora’s domain, dragon ... revenge is delicious and it would totally eat you if it could. Also...

8

187 notes - 19 August 2019

after

9

179 notes - 23 October 2019

(L)Inktober Prompts: ghost, Korok, Deku “Who were they?” The mask is useful for inventory, but it also makes me a little sad.

10

162 notes - 30 June 2019

This has prolly been done :p 15 meters of wet hair, can you imagine the weight? And there’s nothing in there to cut it with.

[lettersofsky]

Fic Writers Week 2017 - Day 1

Validation:  Fic Writers, share some of the comments that stuck with you the most.

Time for me to go find some of my favourite comments (gonna have one or two then the rest under read more); 

I just really love Genesis judging how Cloud lives even though he's the (presumably) homeless sort-of-fugitive who just broke in? And I'm kind of having fun wondering if it's a "you're the puppy's foundling and I guess I'll look out for you (or that's what I'll tell people)" 'you're mine now' or a "you look like a drenched kitten you call this swill tea and I absolutely was routing through your things and how do you live like this?" Or something else entirely :3 from  Velundr-lacking-password on Cloud Now Owns A Cat

The gentle reveal in this was absolutely perfect, and I adore that. The moment of no longer dealing with the body dysphoria...gods. I don't often experience it myself, but you've written such a poignantly sweet moment of it, and it's beautiful. from  AikoNamika on Everything is Perfect by Design

Another amazing chapter!!! I love love love Cloud and Genesis' interactions, how understanding and gentle Cloud is, and how Gen is so trusting of him despite everything he's gone through. Haha, and Cid. Bad tempered yet always there to help. Oohhhh, I cannot wait for next chapter. They have some explaining to do... And it's going to be highly unpleasant for them I'm sure. Cloud seems rather unhappy. And now I'm extremely curious as to what, exactly, Cloud's relationship is with the other draconics, especially Sephiroth. That little snippet raised my curiosity. Awesome, wonderful, amazing chapter, and I can't wait for the next one!!! from Missingwings on Strife of a Failure Chapter 4

Aaaaahhhh! It was adorable and cute and I loved it and I need more of it and just... gah! Thank you thank you thank you. I love the sttorries you share with us. They are always amazing. My son is looking at me weirdly right now because I'm freaking out over reading this on my phone. So totally worth it! from  fireyangel020 on Progression of a Relationship

I just really love Genesis judging how Cloud lives even though he's the (presumably) homeless sort-of-fugitive who just broke in? And I'm kind of having fun wondering if it's a "you're the puppy's foundling and I guess I'll look out for you (or that's what I'll tell people)" 'you're mine now' or a "you look like a drenched kitten you call this swill tea and I absolutely was routing through your things and how do you live like this?" Or something else entirely :3 from  Velundr-lacking-password on Cloud Now Owns A Cat

You know what? This. Was. Amazing. It was fucking incredible. I'm not usually for second person but I got so totally absorbed and felt so many emotions. This was so well written, so thought provoking, and so tragic. It just goes to show. No matter how much you try to change your fate, no matter what you do, some stories just don't have a happy ending. And that's why the character of Ravus really resonated with me. Despite all his effort, despite all he had been through, he did not get the peace he deserved. He did not even get to die on his own terms. He suffered so much and received nothing in return. It's so sad. Take all the kudos in the world! (Also, I found Loqi and Ravus's relationship very cute) from Cid_Raines on The Crownless Prince of Tenebrae

How does this not have any comments or more kudos on it? I for one LOVE anything where Terra bonds with the Apprentices! Braig's slip was actually not unusual and I like that he did feel guilty over it and even Dilan thumped him a bit for it. In my mind though there are certain aspects of 'Xehanort' that were influenced by Terra and finally acknowledging them helps him bond with his further expanded family so seeing an approach where he is essentially the 'outside being let in' is super interesting to me since it is a another way of doing it. I love how petulant Ienzo is over only being allowed one drink as well as how they all sort of gang up on him about except Terra who was just surprised he was helping finish the fruity drink. I don't drink alcohol myself but I enjoy stories like this where people are drinking buddies for some reason. Thank you for writing such a great story and I hope that you will be given more of the feedback the idea alone is due. from Fangirl_Shenanigans on A Night Amongst Friends

[cloudvelundr]

BotW Au no one asked for

Link leaves Tenoko island limping a little from an unlucky shot, but under clear skies and fair winds.

They don’t stay fair.

The blow comes up fast when he’s not halfway to the point and, well

He wakes up naked again.

(He is getting really tired of that.)

But there’s a girl who’s patching his cloths, so that’s something, and his bag made it intact though, slate inside - map on the fritz - but his weapons are no doubt in the deep.

He quickly figures he’s on the island the mainlanders call Eventide - it’s one no sailor can reach, and those who stray close hear strange voices, or so the Lurelin fishermen say.

The locals call it Koholint.

.

He ambushes a moblin for its sword and shield and it goes about the same from there.

Hyrule needs him, but first the Windfish needs to wake.

There’s a Blight in this dream.

.

Later, after days or weeks an accounting of time he never quite figures out, Link wakes on his splintered raft, drifting uncertainly on Kitano’s water. The gulls are baying overhead, and he looks for whatever he can see -

And for what he can’t.

Eventide is gone.

But his shirt is mended and his waterlogged boots aren’t the ones he had before. He wonders what he’ll find in his pack.

With a long glance at empty seas and empty -for now- skies, he turns to the distant shore and pulls out the slate. In a glimmer of light he’s gone too.

.

(Later still, travellers learn to listen for a flute on the road - it leads to a young man, handy in a tight spot, a friendly face at the fire, always with a spot of food to share and a melody as he rides and wanders. )

(And if someone asks what the soulful melody he plays so often is he’ll say it’s name, but never where he learned it.)

[cloudvelundr]

I sat down to draw and instead I somehow have an incomplete 5000 word outline. Brain wtf how did I get here why can’t I do that on purpose

[cloudvelundr]

Bullet point play by play/writing snipits is at 8600 words, 11000 with backstory bits, 13 with even-further-back-bits I may or may not work in. Cannae do it capt’n? I don’t know.

[cloudvelundr]

Linktober 2: moon, home

BotW Link had a wolf Link toy as a kid - it was their fav and it shows. Poor Wolfe has a lot of patches!

[cloudvelundr]

Reciprocate

Cloud receives a package.

... due to the increased risk we would recommend phasing out the E04 models in favour of reverting to series C, or testing any F- and G-series as with the rate of attacks the E series is quickly falling to an irreparable state. We would tentatively recommend the F2-2 [link: specs] F3.4-2 [link: specs] or the G5-B [link: specs] provided that the units do not emit any byproduct noise in the range of the danger frequencies – testing may be required as this is not noted on any available reports. Likewise, the towers in the Thurmir and Jarfast townships are also affected but the already in service F2-0 will be sufficient as they are in a milder climate zo

“Oh la laa! Someone’s been holding out on us!”

Cloud blinked away from his report to where Sebastian was cackling over one of the oversized reusable crates Shinra sent out most of it’s shipments in. He’d heard him in the hall chatting with the delivery team between the steady sound of boxes thumping down but it’d been easy to ignore: he was on a roll and over the summer shipments came every couple days for as long as they could. The delivery guys had cut through the common area to the kitchen – technically the mess but it really didn’t qualify – a little while ago leaving Sebastian to rummage and start whittling the pile away. The current box had a post office stamp.

“Someone sent a dildo,” he wheezed.

The couriers heads popped back in.

A “what?” filtered faintly though the ceiling followed by a thundering across the room into the kitchen and then Paige was pushing in looking delighted. Andy followed more sedately.

“Did I hear mail order sex toys?”

Snerk. “No- well, maybe. I dunno – just saw it.”

“Well let’s see! Who’s it for?”

“Gimme a sec, gimme a sec! It’s under some shit.”

He dove back in under the amused watch of the gathered. Cardboard slithered and he cursed, and started removing packages: “Henry... Mairi... oh, hey, sir got something heavy... ‘nother for Henry.. Tomeo... hmmm... aaaand here we are!”

He popped up triumphantly, whoever’s prize in hand.

At about a foot long it looked like two boxes taped together, one smallish but wide and another narrow and long like a post on a pedestal, it did look like it could be a dick in a box. Sebastian flipped it around to find the label and read it with raised eyebrows.

“Hey blondie, something you wanna tell us?”

Cloud squinted at the package as Sebastian brought it over, their entirely too happy squadmates looking on. He accepted it bemusedly and checked the sender.

Zack. Of course it was Zack. Except it shouldn’t be.

“... This is too soon for vengeance.”

“Come again now.”

Cloud ignored him in favour of diving for his PHS, blinking almost invisibly in the light of the room. What were the odds, he wondered around the growing bubble in his chest. The top message was in fact from Zack.

It said: why are you like this

Underneath was a picture of Cloud’s birthday gift to him, in heavy shipping paper, wrapped in loving detail with remarkable resemblance to a dildo.

Cloud snorted into his hand. Started to giggle. Slid to the floor laughing.

“You okay down there?”

He waved off the concern and offered his phone to someone’s hand while he pulled himself upright, amusement still bubbling.

Somewhere behind him Paige started snickering.

“I was gonna ask who does that, but apparently you do.”

A quick flick of keys revealed something somewhat lumpy, brightly wrapped in confetti printed birthday paper, sharing the same shape as it’s box so he pulled it out and lay them side by side.

“Alright give me my phone.”

He took a picture and sent it.

you’re one to talk

and that’s not your coffee table

i sent it to your apprtmt why are you opening it on base

The reply was almost immediate.

i may have forwarded my mail

i’m in icicle for two more weeks but mom was sending cookies

And then the phone rang.

“Zack I swear if there’s chocobo underwear in this thing it doesn’t matter where you are I will find a way to hurt you.”

“Dammit I knew I forgot something.”

There was an echoing quality to his voice. Other voices were chuckling a little too loudly in answer.

“... You’re on speaker phone aren’t you?”

“No point pretending the peanut gallery can’t hear us.”

“Point,” he agreed and switched his as well in favour of poking his gift. There was something hard and brickish wrapped in the not-underpants. “Anyone I know?”

“Don’t think so? Guys this is Cloud, sender of suspiciously wrapped objects. His birthday’s the week after mine.”

“You mean his name isn’t Spike? You lied to me Fair. I’m hurt.”

“Ivo?”

“Real deep. Right here.”

“Piss off.”

“Seriously though, is it a dildo?”

“No. No it is not.”

“Because it’s really convincing.”

“... In my defence I was bored.”

“You’re sure?”

“Zack, I’m a craftsman. Fake fake dick isn’t hard to do.” Someone laughed again. “Besides, Aer might kill me.”

“’Cause this wrap job’s a work of art.”

“Just open the damn thing.”

“Hear hear!”

“You too, Spike.”

“Please,” Andy leaned on the couch, a smirk colouring her words, “show us what wonders the sad penis holds.”

“Fine, fine – happy birthday, dork.”

“You too, nerd.” Paper ripped. “... of course you wrapped it in puppies and cupcakes. Why did I think you wouldn’t.”

“I have a giant roll of that stuff,” It was a rather lovely pastel blue too. Cloud hefted his gift and considered where to start, “I’ll using it for years.”

Cloud heard Zack sigh before another heavy rip and rustle came over the speaker, and decided to open the shaft before the heavy thing could escape on it’s own – already he could see holes where the corners were trying to work their way free. When he ripped in it tried to anyway, nearly slipping free in an explosion of obnoxious sport socks.

The audience pouted.

“Aw, no dildo.”

“Nice whetstone though.”

“Did you have to pick the most eye peeling socks you could find?”

“Duh. Did you have to use duct tape?”

“Well how else was I supposed to attach the banana to the egg thing?”

“He’s got you there, Fair.”

“Why would anyone even need a two egg travel case.”

“Lunch? Hard boiled is a thing.”

“You could put the cream egg things you like in them.”

“Point.”

Click.

“Score! Banana has candy!” A patter of little thumps.

“Of course you immediately dump them.”

“Mmm. Where did you get the fruit things?” Zack asked, clacking one against his teeth, “I can never find them.”

“Places.”

“That’s helpful.”

“I aim to serve,” he replied, plucking at the remaining wrapping.

“Pff. Liar.”

The paper gave way to another pair of socks – the thickest, fluffiest he’d ever seen, and probably the first he’d wear out come winter – which were bundled around a small, flat plastic case. The clasp was stiff but snapped open to reveal game data cards.

“Awesome,” Cloud grinned. The new Tales of Zelig was first up. “I know what I’ll be doing all winter. Thanks!”

“You’re welcome! Two of them were already yours though – I grabbed them when I put the cases with your stuff.”

“Thanks, I didn’t realize I’d forgotten them.”

“No prob.”

“Now finish yours.”

“Yeah, crack open your balls, Fair.”

“That sounds wrong,” Paige muttered. Cloud thought he might’ve flinched.

Sebastian sniggered. “Psssh. It’s hilarious and your know it.”

There was a popping noise and a pause.

“Dude.”

“Cloud, are these what I think?”

“Are they spawns of the materia you keep threatening to steal? Yeah. Yeah they are.”

“You meme loving fuck, I am going to lord this over Genesis forever.”

“Does the commander not have them?”

“No, they’re super rare. Like how you even have them I don’t know.”

Cloud sat back, pensive. “Really? ‘Cause I literally just... found them.”

“Because your luck is stupid. Man, I have only ever even heard of like three Knights, and yours is one. There was a Turk sharpshooter who had one but it went missing when he did.”

“And the last one?” asked one of the couriers.

“There’s supposed to be a green mage on one of the Goblin Islands. Don’t know who it is but even Genesis won’t touch them. But you just found it on a scree. And the water-healing thing- you said you woke up on the way to Midgar and saw it in the bushes but it doesn’t even have a name.”

“Huh.”

“So yeah, it’ll piss Gen off so much. It’s gonna be great.”

“You’re nuts.”

“He’s not like the rumours – the Firaga Incident didn’t actually happen.”

Paige and the delivery guys looked dubious.

“Yeah, I haven’t met him but his men are stupid loyal. You don’t get that by being the crazy who lights your people on fire.”

“These materia probably wouldn’t cooperate with him though. He’s more dark red and these are definitely white and light. He’ll still be jealous as Hel.”

“Now you just have to keep Treasure Princess away.”

There was a pause.

“Treasure Princess, Fair?”

“... Shit. She will won’t she.”

Cloud started laughing quietly into his hand.

“You had ulterior motives, didn’t you?”

“No- I forgot about her until just now. She only really bothers you. But you’ve got to admit it’s funny.”

“I guess.”

“Oh stop pouting.”

“I am not p-”

“He totally is.”

“Traitor.”

“Well,” Andy stood and stretched, “thank you boys for the entertainment, but some of us need to get back to preparing for patrol.”

There was a sudden cursing from the phone: “Shit, us too.”

“Come on Paige. Happy birthday Fair.”

“And Cloud, gift wrapping champion. You guys deserve each other.” The other voices echoed.

“Thanks peanut gallery.” Cloud replied to fading sounds of their movements and switched the PHS back to his ear as his squad wandered back to wherever they had been. The couriers had vanished. He could hear the sound of candy wrappers shuffling as Zack gathered the treats from wherever he’d dumped them. “You too?”

“Yeah. They’re my team – there’s marlboro breeding grounds sprung up nearby.”

“Ew.”

“No kidding.”

“Still, good birthday?”

“It was alright. Quiet. One of the guys bought a cake – it was actually fantastic. But... I’d rather been home.”

“Hmm,” Cloud agreed, arranging his own things on his computer to move. The report could wait a bit. “Same. I think Adam is threatening to bake something, but.”

“Yeah.”

“Still, not a bad place to spend it.”

“And not bad company either.”

“No – the looks I got for that package though.”

Snerk. “It’s the baby-face,” Zack said. “They forgot you’re twenty and a little shit.”

“No, they know that,” Cloud replied, sliding past Sebastian and into the hall.

Sebastian looked up and grinned, “Yeah, it’s ‘oh god our next captain is the kind of guy who sends dildo shaped presents.’”

“Yeah. That.”

“But he also warks back at chocobos, calls anything vaguely canine a puppy, was probably responsible for the glitter ATVs, and is generally a massive nerd, so I don’t know why we’re surprised.���

Zack was laughing again.

Cloud groaned and kept going. “You both suck.”

“Heh. Anyway, I really gotta go now. I’ll try to call you again soon.”

“Alright, say hi to Aerith for me?”

“Will do! And I’ll find you those chocobo boxers!”

“Zackary Fair, Don’t You Fucking Da-” Cloud cut off at the dial tone: “And he’s gone. Jerk,” he murmured fondly and with a shake of his head made his way to his room.

Stuffing the socks in a drawer and the stone with his maintenance supplies, Cloud settled into his desk and flipped his computer back open. And paused. And closed it again.

He reached for the little case, and flicked through it’s contents. It was mid August, still summer most places but there cooling soon and much work blowing in on the wind. It could well be winter before he got another truly quiet hour.

“Try’n’a spoil me,” he murmured, and slotted one into his console instead.

The report could wait.

[cloudvelundr]

Sung from the Soul

Day Five- Singing / Late

Day Six- Stars / Fight

Day Seven- Soulmates / Hero

Most of these count - based off a soulmate prompt the particulars of which I’ve forgotten. Also - I’m still awake so it’s not late. Shhhhh.

The youth of Gaia sang.

They began the moment they learned their first song and continued until one of two things happened: either a young voice petered out as they gave up looking, or they found one to sing with them. Though they called it many things most called it the heart song.

There was a growing group that felt that ‘heart’ was not precisely right if not entirely wrong, but Cloud was inclined to disagree – loathing was just as much a matter of heart as love after all. He'd seen a few heartsongs end in hate, and it was not uncommon whenever a superstitious singer should find themselves in unplanned duet of a sad or angry song that they went out of their way to avoid the other. Country songs about a girl and truck were generally considered a bad sign, even among those who liked the style. Cloud himself had once witnessed a pair break into an honestly phenomenal rendition of ‘When You’re Evil’ one memorable karaoke night and watched as they promptly exchanged basic contact details so as to never meet again, something he’d found kind of disappointing. He knew a couple back home who’d lived a long, devoted and wondrously happy life after connecting through a song literally called ‘The Betrayal’ and a set of long friends who’d never heard each other sing until they were drunk at the bar and ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’ came on.

Really it was fun when it happened but it was just some kind of chocobo shite, if you asked him.

The whole thing was arbitrary, no one really knew what it meant, and it could happen many times through a person’s life. Hells, it’d happened to Cloud three times – once as a child with a Tifa and a folk song about someone’s love at the fair, again much more recently with Zack Fair when they grabbed dinner after a mission and again an hour later when they, excited, went to demonstrate to Zack’s girlfriend Aerith and she’d joined in. They at least had all tried dating together but apparently ‘Uptown Funk’ wasn’t conducive to that, but best friends who slayed together? That it could do. Or something. But that was was what they told people.

Which was a lot to say that deciding something was bung didn’t make his heart beat any slower when it happened again.

They’d been sent to Wutai to deal with a bug problem that had been deemed below the attention of the SOLDIERs manning the base there. Cloud questioned the cost efficiency of a SOLDIER or three who were already there versus shipping in a squad plus a SOLDIER with higher materia clearance, but he wouldn’t wonder too hard because that was Shinra for you, and he was getting paid extra for the job anyway. They really did need the SOLDIER though, since only he and Phan were allowed any materia, and those were only low level cures – not exactly helpful against thunderbirds approaching their swarming season, or worse, those turtle things.

(Adatai? Adaments? Ada-something. The squad consulted itself in whispers, debated, considered, gave up and called it turtle dad.)

They were assigned a mixed blessing; mixed, because Genesis Rhapsodos was a legend, but the kind of legend that could become a terror if he decided he didn’t like them. Cloud for his part knew he was safe, having met Genesis through the hyper social roller coaster that was Zack, and he seemed to like him. The downside was that that meant Cloud had to find increasingly sketchy excuses to be quiet and aloof or absent or someone would notice him pretending that he could manage multisyllabic words around the magnificent man. Or sentences at all.

Thankfully no one had noticed yet – and you could bet your best rations the squad would give him hell when they did – but they’d mostly been hiking and fighting in relative silence, grunts of effort under the heavy, humid canopy and yes-sirs to orders, interspersed with the occasional “Syler get your ass out of my face” (“But what if I’m into that?” “Someone throw a canteen at him.”) until the others started trying to give each other ear-worms.

Rhapsodos let them be for a while, but eventually put his foot down.

“As entertaining as this is, you’re scaring off our prey.”

Whether by volume or off-key singing he didn’t say, but the smirk he wore suggested that latter.

“I don’t suppose that counts towards ‘clearing them out’ sir?”

“‘Fraid not soldier.”

Unfortunately for Cloud he didn’t stop them soon enough – by the time they found a nice little overhang up a hill and just below the trees to camp under for the night ‘Alejandro’ had been circling his head on and off for nearly four hours. Better than poor Diaz humming ‘The Song that Never Ends’ but still annoying enough that he nominated himself for one of the first watches, snagging the coveted high ground ‘with actual sky for real’ post. Gathering his dinner and equipment maintenance kit (bug guts were the worst) he climbed up watch for death from above.

Above the trees he could see that the hill was technically probably a mountain, but time had eroded its edges and long years of growth had buried its feet leaving a low, rounded plateau surrounded in a sea of green, darkening under the dying light. It reminded him a little of the lowlands near home – the wrong trees of course, no pines in Wutai – with it’s low old little mountains peeking though the sea and the line of jagged peaks in the distance he could almost imagine it. And so while he’d thought to chase out his worm with something new, as he set to work cleaning his gear he chose something older.

“There were three rawens sat on a tree~”

He finished his cleaning before the sun dipped behind the mountains and the sky deepened behind the stars, singing softly all the while. There were, he thought as he packed his things away, a concerning number of murder ballads such as the one he just finished, and he could understand that having met his neighbours in Nibelheim, but they were balanced by just as many soppy ones, with the odd heroic or tragic one thrown in for spice. Soppy, he decided, was a better fit for the view. With maybe a little mystery.

Two bars into a romance so old that the meaning was lost though the story remained and he was no longer singing alone.

Genesis was a little ways off – Cloud distantly noted that he must have been scouting and come up another path across the plateau, either to check on him or just as a quicker route back. If whatever magic was in the heartsongs would allow it Cloud thought he might have passed out from his blood suddenly relocating in a full body blush or choked into silence, but it wouldn’t and instead forced them to sing it and remember it in whole as Genesis approached with a considering look at a song he’d never heard but could never forget and Cloud continued dying a little inside.

The song was short at least, and after a minute or two their voices trailed into silence. All was still for a moment until motor skills returned enough for Cloud to bury his face in his hands. There was probably a noise accompaniment because Genesis frowned with a question:

“What, was it about someone’s death? Love’s who left?”

Cloud shook his head.

“Then am I so displeasing to you?”

“Wha-?” Cloud jerked up behind his palms, wide eyed, “What? No- I. Um. Shit. Ah- No. No.”

Peering over his fingers he saw Genesis watching with a raised brow.

“Shit. I- I’m sorry. I didn��t mean...” He looked down, fiddled with his scarf, and mumbled “‘s the opposite problem.”

After a moment boots moved into his view and crouched. A finger caught his chin and then Genesis was looking into his flustered face, still burning from his ears on down his neck.

“You could have said something.”

“... I’m bad at pretty people.”

The eyebrow lifted again. No shit, it said.

“Zackary said otherwise.”

“Spiders Georg is an outlier an’ doesn’t count.” Aerith too. Those two were their own category, but the answer startled a barking laugh out of the other man.

Genesis released his chin with another snort and rolled to settle next to him.

“Fair enough,” he said, voiced coloured in amusement, “but I’ll not have one of my soul mates too shy to even talk with me. But you’re relief’s not due for at least an hour. So!” He nodded to himself out the corner of Cloud’s eye. “How about we start with you telling me what on Minerva’s green Gaia we just sang?”

[cloudvelundr]

With The Sun At His Back

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Almost another half year. But it lives.

If you’ve forgotten or wonder if you care: Prompt: Your body plays a game of hot and cold to locate your soulmate, the hotter you are the closer you are to your soulmate, the colder, the farther away. Cloud-centric.

The green dragon’s dying screech was still echoing in the caverns when the flashing glimmer of gold caught against his spell-work and led Cloud down to the creature’s hoard. It was probably the largest one he’d seen, he thought with a low whistle, the stolen and shattered shipping container that saw this dragon reported hardly added to the mass. It was going to be a hell of a job sorting the mess out, and he was quietly glad it wouldn’t be his problem, bar maybe spotting any cursed items. At a glance he could feel at least three.

Considering the pile he hummed.

“I wonder if I can have dibs on any weapons they find.”

Kamala looked up from her own perusal, “Assuming there’s anything unclaimed, I’m sure you can. You did good Strife.”

“Thanks sir,” Cloud grinned, “and there definitely should be. That dragon could have gotten a good little hoard but this? It probably stole it from another dragon who stole it from another... or maybe an old blue died and it took over. The junk at the bottom’s gonna be old.” Maybe he could get a decent bracer or a spelled blade if he played his cards right.

The colonel shrugged. “You’re the expert. I’ll take your word for it – I know arcs not greens.” She stood with a grunt, “But this all isn’t going anywhere. Let’s clear the caves and report in. There’s a flight from Rocket back to base this afternoon and I want on it. You with me?”

Cloud bounced up from poking tarnished gil: “Yes mam!”

There was little else to do in these caves – less sprawling than the yawning early tunnels had suggested, or even as much as the other dens they’d tracked down had been. They wound just far enough to keep a steady temperature year-round but not so deep as the dragons nearer to home had to burrow to escape the harsher winters there. The bulk seemed to be water-carved by a stream they found towards the back, but there was nothing else living apart from the bugs so they called it a day.

Leaving the cave mouth they did their best to camouflage the entrance. It would be at least a few days until a retrieval team could make it out there with the trucks necessary to haul the frankly ridiculous loot pile back to an airfield warehouse for sorting and it wouldn’t do for someone to notice it. Or worse – for another dragon to try moving in. Retrieval was unlikely to have a SOLDIER guard. Once they were satisfied with their work they set out for the rendezvous point to meet their ride.

The hilltop was a good ways off but they were nearly there before they finally got back into phone range and as one their PHS’s lit up. Cloud heard Zack’s ringtone several times, and a few of his old squad too and he worried what prompted it – he shared a heavy look with the colonel, and frowning they both stopped to read.

“Not mission orders?”

“No... Well. Could be. There’s been a flareup in Wutai.” The news was a few days old now as they’d been out of contact hunting for most of the week but it was concerning.

“No, that’s too small for this much noise.”

“Hrmf. Maybe.”

A minute passed in silence until Kamala dragged a hand through her hair and sighed.

“Finally.” She said, flipping her phone shut. “They’ve ‘reassigned’ the Seconds to Midlands and the Strand Airbase. Probably send some West too. No word what prompted it though.”

“... An accident, I think.”

“‘Accident’ you mean?”

Cloud shook his head. “Don’t know. The army only knows about the move but... I know some Firsts. They’re talking about an incident with at least one them.” He grimaced. “Someone they know from the sounds of it – they’re not usually very flappable. Might be unrelated though.”

“Well, nothing we can do from here. I think I hear the chopper – let’s go home.”

They arrive back in Junon late that evening, reports completed on the flight over and the news parsed for anything more than the updates they’d been sent, but all Cloud could find was more of the same. Thin details suggesting a splinter cell in Wutai, possibly AVALANCHE, and a general outrage that it took so long to remove ‘those menaces in the Second’ - a turn of phrase Cloud found personally offensive even if he knew what they meant. The Second... wasn’t harmless, they were too good at their jobs for that but they weren’t dangerous. The Second Classes however were ticking time bombs no matter what force they were assigned to, but there was no word on what finally triggered their move. Nor was there news about any of the Firsts, and no one seemed to be around so he would simply have to wait until morning to get someone to fill him in.

Until then, he bid the Lieutenant Colonel goodnight and went to find his bike – his kitchen was calling.

Halfway home he scrapped the thought and picked up some takeaway instead. It had been a long week and the shower and bed were calling too.

Some hours later, well fed and still damp Cloud roused from his cozy doze on the couch and drifted to his apartment’s window high over Junon. Distantly he could see the familiar silhouette of the base and it's airfield aswarm with more lights than usual but he closed his eyes to it and the military jet turning onto the runway. Instead he felt for the glaze of warmth that had lured him out, no greater than a candle flame before him, to bask like a moth before he could pull away.

“Going back again, huh?” he asked the light, “Well, at least they weren’t panicked over you.”

He leaned, closed eyed and tired against the glass until the fire dimmed and pulled the feeling from his toes.

“Well, then, maybe next time.”

But next time didn’t come.

[cloudvelundr]

After heavy rains the river dragon drinks.

The spring of courage is kinda mislabeled - it’s at the end of the river not the headwater, and it really looks like it’s made to flood.

[cloudvelundr]

Erstwhile (wip)

When the observation booth door closed behind Lazard it took too much effort not to sag in relief – he couldn’t. Not in front of the other Directors, not right now. But reporters. Ech.

Heidegger caught it anyway. “Gya,” he scoffed, commiserating in this at least, “Still on about the recruitment numbers?”

“If only. They know the levels are fine. No, they’ve sent Arbour and her ilk.”

“Ah, the gossip rags.” He paused to take in the field and dismiss it. “Anyone interesting?”

“Not hardly.” He looked over the training grounds, milling with recruits so green their sweats hadn’t a speck of dirt on them, though that would change as soon as the sergeants made their way from the podium to the field. “Only Anna Dias, and she wasn’t interested in the press conference.” Not much a conference. “She was scoping the courses.”

“Hrmf.”

Lazard rather agreed. It was what they were nominally there to do, not that there was much to see. The little training fields housed obstacle courses, the field, track, a few basic workout installations and a small range out near the rear of the compound – this was a small facility, one of several, and existed primarily for the boot-camp about to begin below. There was little to say of the recruits themselves either, only input to the system in the last few days after their initial medical check – no wasting time on those who didn’t pass. Likewise, paper tests would follow and psych evals after that. Some outstanding individuals might be offered mako testing at the end of the program, but they wouldn’t have a good starting picture for at least two weeks, and the reporters – Dias – wouldn’t see any of that.

He really shouldn’t see it or need to either, come to it, but such was PR.

Thank Shiva for one-way mirrors.

Lazard picked a seat by the window – may as well keep an eye out – and pulled out a data pad.

Palmer was dozing in a back corner, a plate on his lap, when Lazard raised his head some time later. Heidegger was in deep conversation with Scarlet – that never boded well – and Tuesti was gesturing was he showed something to Veld, likely some new tower renovation plan by the actual interest in Veld’s eye. That or sketches to update to the training facilities. Reeve was often distracted with shiny carrots like that.

Down below the recruits were racing through one of the obstacle courses, covered in mud, new cloths new no more. He’d been able to pick out a few until the mud pits, but now only one stood out by virtue of being a human tank. He could halfway pick a handful of smaller ones, slight enough that they had to be potential Turks – even from a distance he was fairly certain they didn’t meet the height requirements for infantry and definitely not for SOLDIER. Aside from the odd spectacular wipe-out it wasn’t particularly riveting. He couldn’t see the stands but doubted the reporters were much more interested than they were.

As such he was the first one to see the light.

He was about to turn back to his work when it started, a glimmer on the ground that shimmered and moved. He noticed in distant horror at the greenish cast of it that it was under someone when it burst in a pillar of brilliant, undeniable lifestream.

It blazed like a tower on fire, too long and too hot, before it slowly began to crumble under the weight of itself.

Several people were swearing.

(“There isn’t even any mako here!” Reeve managed to sound vaguely affronted under the breathlessness. His prospectors would hear about this.)

The light slowly dimmed and he could see the Sergeant making headcounts at the gates leaving of the fields. Gods help them if they’d lost anyone.

On this day of all days – the press was going to have a field day.

[cloudvelundr]

Something Clever

Strifesodos soulmate au: Cloud has the entirety of Loveless written on his back.

Because why would I need sleep?

They were almost artistic, the words down his back.

Cloud hadn’t noticed when they’d appeared, tiny lines fading in one by one, in a near perfect script, neatly paragraphed along his shoulder blade. At ten years old Cloud had little interest in his back and had just reached the age of being appalled by the very notion of his mother wandering in on him changing and half dressed, and so with the only mirror available to him high and small above the bathroom sink he couldn’t say when the words began to darken. It was only when he got hurt playing on the trails outside of town that he clambered up onto the little counter to inspect the damage, hoping to not have to let his mother know what he’d been up to, that he saw it.

It was long. Longer than almost any soul mark he knew and he wondered if that was why it was small enough that he could not hope to read it in the mirror. He’d seen other marks – on arms and legs and necks and anywhere bare of hair – and some could even be read at a distance. But he wanted to know what his said.

And that was how Claudia found him, sitting on his bed with her pilfered ancient instant camera held precariously behind him. She fondly called him daft, took the pictures, and chewed him out for playing too rough.

Later, when his cuts were tended and the pictures as clear as they would ever be Claudia helped him transcribe the neat text, though they could not replicate the twists of the fine lettering: delicate slants and emphasis that somehow captured quiet nuance and tone. When the war of the beasts brings about the world’s end…

“What does it mean, mama?”

“ ‘Fraid I don’t know much about poetry, my Nebel,” Claudia apologized, “but I’m sure we’ll find someone who does soon enough.”

‘Soon enough’ lasted nearly three years as it turned out that no one else in Nibelheim cared much for poetry either. Cloud nearly found it himself after he took to picking up any book of poems that came into town. After all, if his soulmate liked poetry enough that they’d manage to recite an entire work – passionately even – before anything managed to interrupt them then reading up on it was the least he could do. It wasn’t his favourite subject, but he learned a certain appreciation for it.

“You a fan of Loveless?”

Cloud started from where he was thumbing though the General Store’s small shipment of paperbacks in long established routine. There were three contenders that week and he’d likely buy them all regardless of them containing what he wanted. The owner ordered them for him now, mostly. Tifa confided that she’d likely found his mark terribly romantic. (So had Tifa, if she were honest. She was also a touch jealous – but only a little. Her own mark was the fairly common ‘It’s you!’ flowering on the inside of her wrist. There was no onus on her to reply, whereas as lovely as a personal recital sounded Cloud felt he had something to live up to.)

“A fan of what?”

“You know, Loveless?” replied Mister Berg, the lowlander who ran deliveries up the mountain. “There is no hate, only joy? You were just saying it?”

Cloud inhaled sharply.

“So that’s what it’s called!”

The third book proclaimed itself by the same name, and the words weren’t printed with the same love as those on his back would one day be spoken, but it didn’t matter: Cloud laughed brightly and buried his face in the pages:

“That’s it! That’s my mark- how much?”

The man shrugged with a kind smile, “Well, that one’s damaged- can’t really sell it, so you can have it if you want.”

Cloud’s brow furrowed. “It looks alright to me?”

“It’s defective, trust me, it’s yours. Shoo.”

“Wha-? Oh. Oh! Thank you!” Cloud launched at Mister Berg and hugged him just long enough to get out another “Thankyouthankyou!” and took off before the embarrassment set in.

It would be a few weeks before he could bring himself to speak to the man again, but by the time Cloud was ready to catch a ride out of town with him a few months later his outburst was all but forgotten.

He knew and had known since even before his words appeared that whatever his future was, it wasn’t in Nibelheim.

He joined the Midgar Infantry. He had vague notions of the spectre of SOLDIER, but he needed experience first and the infantry was one of the few places that would take a country boy like him.

Boot camp was awful. Miserable, wet, filthy and exhausting in body and in spirit, but it was three weeks and done and then they were off to work.

Cloud did well enough, he supposed, given he was younger than most and smaller than all, and that and his prickliness had made it harder to make friends at first, but then he’d mellowed until the older men were a little less fed up with him, and the newer recruits were closer and closer in age and looked to him. His COs even seemed to think they could make something of him, and this he suspected was what started landing him the missions with SOLDIER.

They’d been small at first. Monster hunting in the slums, then an excursion to the plains here and the mines there, and then anywhere under the sun and a few more places besides. When he was nearly seventeen he learned the leader of his most recent expeditions was a recruiting officer, and then there was mako testing and appointments and a new uniform. His mission roster hadn’t changed much afterwards, but it had gotten harder, and a little more again when at nineteen he made Second.

Or at least it seemed that way. There’d only been the one after all.

Cloud tried to vanish into his seat.

There was a cluster of towns on the Northern Continent with a monster problem, which being the North had rated a respectable contingent of Seconds and a handful of Firsts. It hadn’t really been that bad either, as missions went, if one discounted that anything involving a malboro was always that bad, and there had been several. Still, they came out alright, aside from the status effects most of them bore.

Cloud’s problem was not that he was Silenced, not a dangerous curse, but still one that his unit healer hadn’t been able to lift, nor had the one in the unit they’d partnered with. Those two had then considered their resources as they loaded into the back of the troop carrier and concluded that their best option was for one of the Firsts to lift it. Their problem was that they were unwilling to approach one of them.

Cloud’s problem was the Colonel Rhapsodos was apparently a stress reader.

“… Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess. We seek it thus, and take to the sky. Ripples form on the water’s surface. The wandering soul knows no rest...”

He read as quietly and as engrossed as the rumours said, and while his reading material supposedly changed from assignment to assignment he had favourites, Loveless crowning among them.

Hearing those words so lovingly said, in lilting tones Cloud could now hear before they were spoken now that he’d heard the voice, was a wonder. And he realized in wide eyed horror, the skin of his back warm and tight, that he’d still never quite figured what he would say to him. Even if he had it probably wouldn’t be appropriate, them sitting there in the back of a transport, surrounded by SOLDIERs, swimming in monster guts and with no way that the first thing out of his mouth wouldn’t be heard.

And so Cloud prayed for a flash of inspiration, or for his comrades to forget him in his silence or for them to simply fail to muster their voices until he could find the words he’d never really had a way with.

He was not so fortunate.

Rhapsodos was just finishing the last verse when Hewley, damn his attentive kindness, notice the healers’ shifty eyes and Cloud’s troubled look.

“Problem, SOLDIERs?”

Cloud frantically shook his head.

Hewley raised a heavy brow and faced the other unit’s healer.

Oinell pointed to him, “Strife here’s been Silenced, sir. We can’t break it ourselves.”

Cloud gave him a betrayed look. Oinell returned it with a puzzled one.

“Is that all? Well then,” Hewley lifted a hand, his bracer already aglow, “that’s an easy fix.”

The spell washed over him and Cloud sagged with a defeated noise, the first sound he’d made in hours.

“What?” Hewley frowned, “You can’t have wanted to be Silenced.”

Cloud sighed again and wished he could have just not answered.

“I was trying to think of something clever to say.”

And across the transport Rhapsodos choked and scambled:

“WhAt.”

Hewley blinked, a slow smile spreading on his face: “… Something clever?”

That was right wasn’t it? They were supposed to be friends, he might have seen Rhapsodos’ mark.

“In response to the entire poem on my back,” Cloud said. People were staring now. “Obviously didn’t work.”

Rhapsodos was standing over him now, all frenetic energy and startled, with a hint of something luminous behind his eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know – I’ve always rather liked it.”

[cloudvelundr]

With The Sun At His Back

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Revived from the dead… It’s not often I pick up things untouched for over half a year. :P

SOLDIER Thirds were a gil a dozen, or at least it felt that way.

Being the easiest enhancement level to implement it was used – possibly to excess, but the Thirds needed to cover a lot of ground. They formed the backbone of any regions monster control measures, ever more important as monster incidents mounted higher higher and higher – important enough to warrant company implemented training schedules, a step up from the Second Army’s local programs just as those were up from the Fifth’s self motivated work.

Unlike the infantry, however, SOLDIERs came out of their adjustment period combat ready and could be shipped out immediately without the addition training, which was preferred but not strictly necessary as had been the case during the worst of the war. Those who survived could always do the required work later and sign up for extras as they wished. The courses were useful and taken one or two at a time as scheduling permitted, covering things like higher tactics, practical science, and the like. Cloud didn’t mind them per se, but the seminars were far more useful. They were technically part of the SOLDIER Seconds’ training as they rarely had the time to dedicate for a regular class, and even if they did the Seconds were usually already too specialized for a course to be worthwhile. Others could sign up if space allowed, or might be forced to if they had a particular talent worth cultivating.

Cloud learned this when he was (finally) sent to Midgar for two such ones – all higher magic courses, large and small, took place there on account of the poor demand and better facilities. His first was more of an exploratory thing, stress tests, that took up most of his time as his limit breaks had apparently raised a few eyebrows.  Summoning space rocks he’d figured was weird but weather related things was a surprise, and both were enough to try and see if he had anything else hiding up his sleeves. He didn’t see anything but the instructors and evaluators made interested noises so what did he know.

The other was just a one time practical that summed up as ‘10 More Fun Things You Didn’t Know Sense Could Do!’ after which the little group – the Seconds had been seeing more restrictions – was set free to use the knowledge as they would.

The main take away was that with higher mako and more refined skills he could now find less concrete things, like ‘something fun to do’ – this one worked by the spell picking up on emotional imprints on the thing in question, the echoes of the emotions humans radiated and how some things just felt loved, but this gave him the worst sort of headache. ‘Something I forgot’ was tetchier but could also worked by both the same method looking for his own touch on things or by scavenging his own subconscious for the most relevant memory. This led vaguely downward. After a halfhearted attempt to ping his list shortlist for his possible soul mate, in theory possible but failed (whether by distance as he was feeling fine or by lacking the right name or just not being possible he couldn’t know) he decided to track down the forgotten thing.

After lunch. Magic made a body hungry.

In Sector Four he found a streetcar owned by a woman from the lowlands back home who was serving up variations on their traditional foods. She served him up extra (“None of that dear – you’re the first Nebel child I’ve seen in months!”) and they chatted for a bit about home and the changes in their fare. The food was good and nostalgic, but they both lamented that no spice could ever make up for the kick of a real dragon stew while her other patrons listened in in fascinated horror.

“It’s not actually dragon… is it?” one asked with a worried furrow in his brow.

“Oh it is,” Cloud replied with contained glee, licking his spoon; he’d missed this stuff more than he’d thought. “There’s a trick to bringing them down of course. It’s hard, but I nearly managed it with a friend before I enlisted, and they make fantastic jerky.”

“Ah- I see,” he said, but he clearly didn’t see and edged away in strategic retreat muttering something about country folk under his breath.

Rude, Cloud thought, and finished his dish.

He snapped a picture of the truck before he left, making note of the streets – he’d have to keep an eye out whenever he came back – and continued on his way.

The forgotten thing was still somewhere below.

The stairs to the slums were long and a tedious climb, but there was a ring network of public walkways below the initial few flights – sparse and like everything under the plate filthy and in need of maintenance, but they let him circle and narrow down his course lest he spend hours roaming the narrow twists and turns of the warrens that wound between all the main roads. Whatever it was was in sector five so he slid on his shades and descended the rest of the way.

Some of the under Plate sectors were better off than others. Sector Four was probably the best of them with most of it’s infrastructure intact – a mostly civilian project with neighbourhood associations banding together to keep everything working after Shinra left them behind. Seven was likely in the best straights after it, with it’s assorted gang connections keeping their territories in shape. Sector Six was dark and mostly abandoned – buildings derelict and condemnable outside of Wall Market – a few well trodden paths between Sectors were all that saw much life. Sector five was closer to this than the first two though it had more life and some of the Slums brightest areas were found there too – it was to one of these that Cloud, heart aching, followed his magic’s nudge.

He wandered through the settlement and came to a stop a shot ways away from it where the feeling was strongest outside of a house with actual flowers. And not just a few; it was bursting with them.

Oh, Cloud thought, suddenly worried that he should have dressed better

The nameplate read Gainsborough.

A woman, greying brown hair in a loose bun, was up on one of the terrace plots tending to it.

“Pardon!” Cloud called and thought as she turned that, yes, she did look like the pictures, “Are you Elmyra?”

“Depends,” she leaned on the railing and frowned eyeing his standard issue boots and cargo pants – he’d decided the tunic wouldn’t be worth the hassle down below. “Who’s asking?”

“My name’s Cloud – Cloud Strife? I’m Claudia’s son.”

“Cl-?” Elmyra peered down then jumped up: “Oh! Oh, you wait there just a tick, I’ll be right down!”

And that was how Cloud met his mother’s soulmate.

Elmyra puttered about her kitchen gathering tea and snacks:

“She’s doing well in Costa she said – I don’t think she really wanted to admit it.”

“She really didn’t,” Cloud agreed, “She loves the mountains too much, but she’s a jeweller and the market dried up back home. We weren’t doing well and if she wanted to get back to it…” Cloud sighed. “I’m just glad she’s happier.”

“And she just wants you happy,” she plunked down a heavily laden tray and catching his eye explained, “My daughter’s due home soon. If she brings that boy of hers we’ll need all of this. But that’s neither here nor there. So. Are you? Happy, with this I mean,” she said waving at him – his eyes and uniform.

“Mostly? I’m glad I tried and I’m glad I got in, but I don’t think I’ll stay. I’ve been with the company for four years now – I’ve got four more on my contract and then…” He turned his cup about in his hands. “I don’t know. We’ll see – but I know while there are good parts of the company there’s some things they do that I can’t- I just can’t support it.”

When he looked up Elmyra was watching him with all too knowing eyes. She pat his hands in approval.

“Well, dear, we agree on that much.”

They sipped their tea in silence for a minute or two until laughing voices outside caught their attention.

“Ah, I was right then.”

The door opened with a singsong “Mooo-ooom! I’m hooo-” a young woman started at the sight of Cloud holding one of their better cups, “-ome? Mom?”

“It’s alright dear, this is Cloud, Claudia’s boy.” Cloud stood with a little wave. “Cloud, this is my daughter Aerith.”

A SOLDIER stuck his head in behind her, “And me!”

“And the guy she keeps dragging home,” Elmyra amended with a mischievous grin.

“Hey!” The man laughed wide and bright, and Cloud thought he might have seen him before though he couldn’t say where, “It’s Zack. Zack Fair.”

“Not Hewley’s student?” asked Cloud, shaking his hand.

“That’s the one! You know him?”

“We talk whenever he’s at the JMA.”

“Junon?” Fair blinked, “Well that explains why I haven’t seen your hair around.”

Cloud shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve only been to Midgar once before, and that was only two days on base when I was in the infantry. As it is I’m only here for courses.”

“What are you taking?” This was Aerith, settling but still unsettled next to her mother.

“There was a seminar today for Sensing stuff – that’s actually what brought me here. I forgot I could visit.” He scratched his head embarrassed. “There may be more once they’ve gone over the skills test results.”

“Oh man,” burst Zack, all enthusiasm and gossip, “I heard that was going on this week. Somebody said some guy blew out a wall – like, with a tornado. Is that crazy or what?”

“I…” Cloud bit his lip. “I didn’t do it on purpose?”

There was a moment of silence around the table, but it lasted only a breathe.

Cloud was pretty sure Zack’s laughter, wholly unnecessary, could be heard from the Plate. Aerith gave a snort behind her hand and joined him. Elmyra looked bemused.

“Did you really?”

“I. Yes. I did.” He frowned at the other two, “It’s a limit break, you don’t get to pick yours. And I told them I shouldn’t do that one inside!” He paused. “Or the meteor one.”

“That was you too?!” Zack guffawed. “That’s fantastic. You have got to show me how to do that.“

Elmyra grimaced. "Please don’t show him how to do that.”

“… I don’t think it works that way? But I don’t think I should be showing anyone who’s that excited about summoning fiery space rocks how to summon fiery space rocks anyway.”

“Oh good. Because he’s a blue mage you know- he could do it.”

“Man, ruin my fun.”

“Just stick to Aerith’s for now, dear. For my peace of mind if nothing else.”

“Aw, fine, I’ll be good. But we’re still keeping him, right?”

Cloud suspected he didn’t get a say in this.

He wasn’t wrong.

[cloudvelundr]

New Year’s Blessing

A New Years fic I started two weeks ago and finished just now :P

The air inside the ballroom shimmered. Lights glistened gently under fronds and blooms, on tables and in corners, glittering against garland and tinsel alike. The table arrangements were subtly luxurious, silks and linens and imported flowers whose rich and precisely chosen colours tutted at the very thought that you might afford them.

Genesis couldn’t see any of it at the moment, tucked between a lavishly decorated pillar and a window. He twirled his champagne flute – a delicate crystal affair whose finely etched vines scattered rainbows across his fingers – and tucked it neatly into a pocket to join his other two. Four would make a nice set.

Others had been far less discrete and settling them stalled his restlessness for a moment at least. Besides, it wasn’t as though they’d be missed. He’d been attending ShinRa parties for years and never seen a repeat of anything but the venue – the Tower’s grand ballroom, the President’s Costa estate and the old Kalm Castle traded the honours between seasons. The Castle had a better atmosphere for holidays, and room for an orchestra besides (currently playing something bright and not quite a waltz) and so was the regular centre of New Years celebrations.

Baying cut above the music and murmuring.

Genesis cringed; somewhere, Heidegger was laughing. But worse was the tell-tale clip of Angeal’s squared shoes coming to a rest outside the curtains.

“Gen.”

He wilted.

“You have to come out sometime you know.”

“No I bloody don’t.”

“You’ll regret it.

“I will not.”

“Lazard will make you regret it.”

“Let him try.”

“Just twenty minutes, that’s it. A dance or two–”

“And a dozen increasingly desperate partners cutting into each.”

“It’s tradition,” Genesis could hear Angeal’s cheeks puffing in annoyance. “You used to do it too. We both did.”

“They didn’t look at us like fresh meat then.”

“They don’t now!”

He growled: “Not to you – everyone and their grandmother knows you’re off the market.” That tended to happen when one’s soulmate was fucking Sephiroth. “I however get passed around like a cheese platter.”

Pushing past the curtain Angeal levelled him a look: “We both know it’s not that bad. Besides, hiding isn’t worth the hassle PR will give you for it later but they won’t care if you’re visible ‘til midnight.”

Genesis sulked. He wasn’t wrong – he’d tried that route before.

Angeal sighed: “I have wine.”

“Fine.” Snatching the glass – the last to line his pockets – Genesis stepped away from the wall: “But as soon as that bell goes I’m gone.”

His friend eyed him, tiredly amused and probably too tolerant.

“I never expected anything else.”

No one ever quite believed how deeply Genesis loathed these kinds of parties, and always had. From his parent’s posturing society affairs in his childhood to the ‘invites’ from his employer to the genuine invitations he received as a celebrity of sorts, it didn’t matter. Large and impersonal, filled with hangers on and greased palms, and him ever in the thick of people he couldn’t stand – so many of them hoping for that thrill of a feeling that would mark them as something special to him – up to the moment he could slip away, only to emerge for food and drink until it was socially permissible to leave. New Years wasn’t normally too bad. It was the only occasion that he ever won his freedom as early as midnight though at the cost of the dances, whirling quicksteps through partners in a vague hope of finding that one in time for a lucky midnight kiss, something that was actually quite fun if you wanted to be there. Genesis, however, didn’t and he was unfortunately rather sought after, and he was edgy besides – had been since he’d arrived, tipping over with a need to go out and run or fight or do something… and so instead Genesis had hidden away sooner that normal. It was technically counter productive, but it saw him stepping of fewer toes and biting them off.

“Just find someone to dance with,” Angeal said, distracted and moving off to rescue Sephiroth as he spotted him in the clutches of an overeager fan.

“Yes, yes. Abandon me why don’t you,” Genesis muttered without heat and knocked back the drink.

Sephiroth hated parties at least as much as Genesis but was too in-demand to hide. Genesis had tried occasionally to bail him out himself, but all it ever managed was to get them both stuck in the spotlight. He offered a sympathetic thought but moved on. His boyfriend would save him or nothing would.

He straightened is cuffs and his tie. He smoothed over his hair. Adjusted his jacket. Heaved a breathe and with the rest of his nonexistent wrinkles patted away reluctantly moved out.

It was easy to slip to the dance floor. Most party-goers not dancing were settling into their tables and social circles for the lead up to midnight leaving the way clear to cut in to the current waltz, leading away a young woman who looked in need of rescuing herself. Half a turn around the polished marble saw the startled but grateful girl slipping away to the safety of friends and replaced by the first person of the night to have their upturned smile falter at first touch.

Genesis really hated parties.

The next gentleman was no different, nor was a lady to follow him, nor either the fourth nor seventh. The tune changed during his twenty seconds or so with the eighth, the tenth held on for half a song to enlighten him as to the Sector Three Humane Society programmes which was something of a novelty and nearly a relief but the fourteenth saw a pair whose follow and pair whose lead were trying to position themselves as his next dance. Genesis decided then that he was done, publicists be-damned, and led gently towards the floor’s edge.

The follow realized his intention and wasn’t having it.

What followed was entirely avoidable.

The interested lead was nearest skirting along the edge of the floor and well posed to sweep in and exchange her partner with his had Genesis not been about to bail. The keen follow was a few paces further away but he was deeper into the dance and about to be cut off by a third pair, twisting by in conversation. The follow decided to rush the closing window of opportunity, and in that moment the dance entered one of its wider steps. Genesis bowed and begged off from his partner, the lead stepped away from hers, and the dancing pair spun wide- right into the keen follow who rammed into the lead dancer sending him into Genesis and both to heap on the floor; Genesis bumped his partner on the way down and she was caught in a tangle by the interested lead who staggered sideways under the sudden weight knocking table on the edge of the dance-floor and scattering food while her partner darted back just in time to catch the fallen dancer’s partner’s suddenly untethered spin. The keen follower stumbled to a halt in the midst of them.

There was a moment of buzzing silence before the chatter around them rose back up.

Actually the buzzing might have just been Genesis.

He counted to five.

“Well,” he drawled, gaze sliding from where his fingers hummed under the hand of the fallen dancer to the suddenly remarkably reluctant follow, “if I weren’t already done, I certainly am now.”

“Er, sorry?” The blond man on his legs pulled his hand away – oh and the silence in his bones was cold – but he only stood, unwinding from Genesis’ legs and offered it back.  Genesis let himself be pulled up – how could he refuse? – and hushed him.

“There’s no fault with you, dear.” He glared at the retreating follow but it softened at the tingling brush of knuckles. He couldn’t even be mad at the nitwit, really. “Though I think some air might be needed.”

The other man seemed at a loss for words.

“I- Yeah… yeah. That’d be good.” He paused, “Just a sec.” He turned to his dance partner, “Sorry, Ester? I’m go-oh? Oh… Never mind?”

Only then did Genesis notice the silence around them had grown again, turned not towards his absent wrath, but the only two still both standing. Ester looked rather like how Genesis felt.

It was a funny old world, sometimes.

It might have been tradition, but the odds of actually finding your One in time for New Years were ever against your favour. It was considered lucky for the party as a whole for it to happen and doubly so for the couple if it was early enough to ring in the year together. Two in the same place in the same accident was absurd at any time of year.

Glancing around it seemed that no one had noticed him and his blond, and the congratulations were starting, so Genesis gave the fingers by his hand a little tug before weaving towards the garden doors. Peeking over his shoulder revealed a bewildered little smile a few steps behind.

The glass doors to the garden balcony were thicker than at first glance – double paned or security glass he supposed – but swung noiselessly and cut the chatter of the party from a dull roar to less than a murmur.

The blond stepped lightly past him, eyes that were merely bright inside – whether by light or shock or delight – were now truly glowing as they inspected the vacant grounds, gardens glossed over in a gossamer sheen by the glow from the curtains. It painted a pale and glittering crown across his riot of hair; Genesis fingers twitched, wondering if it was as soft as it looked, and where he’d been posted that he hadn’t seen him until now, distinctive as he was.

He’d always been drawn to uncommon things.

“I suppose-” the man cuts off, lifting his cuffs from the balustrade to slick a finger along it – it came away damp with dew, but he only shrugged and leaned anyway. “I suppose they’ve all gone in for the countdown.”

“Mm, no doubt. It’s any minutes now.” Genesis joined him with and amused huff. “Quite the timing we’ve managed.”

“Heh, yeah.” He laughed softly. “That… really just happened,” he murmured, straightening a little.

‘Genesis reached out in answer, giving in to the impulse to brush a few stray locks curling along the man’s neck. (It was that soft- it was positively downy.) The pleasant jolt along his fingers was met with a startled snort of a laugh. Genesis grinned devilishly:

Ticklish!

Breathy and bright eyed he took a step from the railing and, facing him fully for the first time, offered his hand: “Cloud Strife.”

He used it to draw him a little nearer: “Genesis Rhapsodos.”

“You hardly need an introduction.”

Cloud was looking up at him, and Genesis decided then that he was in trouble. Cloud had a lovely face, with a faint blush on his cheeks, a touch touch of coyness in the slant of his head, and a determined set about his eyes and shoulders, but that smile, oh.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But it only seems polite to give a name to someone you’re hoping to kiss.”

That smile. It had actual wattage.

Distantly there was counting.

“Are you now?”

“Mm-hm. Tradition, you know.”

“Not a bad one.”

“One of the better ones, I thought.”

It was not sparks, as some said, or a singing in his veins, the kiss, but a steady humming somewhere between touching a live wire and the feel of soaking heat when sitting before a fire which spread out from where they touched. It rose and settled down into the recesses of his soul, faded until long parting roused it. He felt warm and calm and charged all at once.

He rested his forehead against golden spikes, noting vaguely that their arms had wound about their waists. He’d only meant for a brief kiss, but suspected it’d been rather not.

“Wooo!”

Definitely not.

“Go boss!”

“Fuck,” said Cloud. “I forgot they were here.”

Genesis felt an arm lift and gesture.

“Rude,” one voice accused.

Cloud’s arm moved.

“Right-o. Leaving.”

“You do that.”

The sound of happy people washed over them and vanished again.

Cloud’s hand settled back with a sigh.

“Didn’t even hear them come out. Your unit?”

Cloud made an affirmative noise. “Not sure how we rated an invite, but yeah… Also you’re kinda comfy.”

“… You too.”

“It's kinda weird. Nice. But weird.”

“That too,” Genesis agree. He paused, considering for a moment and said:

“Other people are going to start coming back out soon…” He hesitated and Cloud lifted his face too look at him. “I was going to head out – do you want to find a pub or a diner or something? Talk?”

“Sounds good to me.” Cloud leaned back in thought. “There’s a place on Elmwood that’s probably open. It’s not too far.”

“Anywhere. Anywhere you like.” He took his hand as they turned to the ballroom. “We’ll have to cut through, though – no climbing the courtyard walls.”

“Aw.” Cloud said, mock dejection in his voice, and teased: “The voice of experience?”

“I’ll never tell,” Genesis replied, opening the door.

“Don’t worry. The gossip rags already did.”

Genesis pulled a face at him and Cloud eyed a waiter who was cutting through the crowd ahead of them thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Do you suppose anyone would notice if I nicked a glass?”

[cloudvelundr]

I’m just really bemused working one this because I’ve used this ring size before (20g1/8”)(mostly same batch,even???), for this weave (hp4n1), in this metal (Al) and it’s never been this stiff before? The Nb one is resistant in some directions but not ‘holds its shape’ stiff and it should technically be stiffer with its’ slightly smaller AR. Like, clearly something’s off, probably just an off batch tho I can hardly check since it’s the remains of a starter kit from years ago. And this isn’t complaining, it’s still gonna be perfectly wearable, I’m just not sure why I can make wave shapes and spirals that mostly hold with this and not the Nb one.

Semi-related tho, I think I was right about the dragon scale colours - the white ‘matte’ is definitely a better choice than silver colour for this mix. Bright would probably pop too much. This is the standard purple tho, not the one I used on the other.

[cloudvelundr]

‘Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh‘ve got yer mum’s eyes.’

Oh look I do art sometimes. Wherein Harry is not a Potter. From a very old crossover - it predates this blog by at least a year.